


Missy Valentine

by MurielJones



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: BDSM, F/F, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-21
Updated: 2011-10-21
Packaged: 2020-02-10 05:20:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18653719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurielJones/pseuds/MurielJones
Summary: Started this years ago, and it turns out I might finish it.  Oh, Emily is so out of line, but she has fun doing it.





	Missy Valentine

**Author's Note:**

> Started this years ago, and it turns out I might finish it. Oh, Emily is so out of line, but she has fun doing it.

Missy set her berretta down on her entrance hall table.  She paused as she lifted her hand, it was a stupid thing to do, leaving her gun out, but tonight she was doing stupid things.  Her apartment had been her escape, but lately work was following her.  She looked over her left shoulder and picked up her gun.  Nightstand would be the better place for it.  She paused and looked at her entrance hall mirror, to see if anyone was behind her.  The white line of a scar ran down her cheek, covered by a dimple when she smiled;   not that she had much to smile about tonight.  

The FBI had been knocking on her door.  The FBI of all things.  Missy didn't run a brothel, certainly not a brothel that invited murder, but it seemed that some of her neighbors did.  Two girls missing in two weeks wouldn't have been taken note of by the local PD except that they were girls working their way though college and their parents had noticed when they didn't return home for a long weekend.  Missy preferred professionals.  She never asked her ladies their histories, that wasn't her business, of course the FBI wanted to ask those answerless questions.

Missy steeled herself to talk to the men from the FBI.  She had thought every question through, read all she could about the murders, found out about the dead girls, she still hadn't asked her ladies, she didn't think that was right.  Even sex workers�and that is what they were, no denying it�deserved some privacy. 

The knock, and Missy was surprised to find herself face with a dark haired woman, who looked as though she ought to be on staff, and a kid, who looked too young to be a client.  "Agent Prentice, and I'm Dr. Reid."  explained the young man.  He looked a little intimidated by the overstated opulence of Missy's home.  Agent Prentice knew it was tacky, but also knew the money that went into putting something like this together.  Missy held the door open to let them in.

"We are here about the murders of the two young women."  opened dr. Reid, hesitant in his speech.  "You knew them?"  Agent Prentice was looking around, a tight smile.  Missy couldn't help noticing, and noticing the strength of her body, Agent Prentice moved so comfortably, looked so confident.  That smile would be brilliant when Agent Prentice relaxed.  Missy looked up to find Dr. Reid staring at her with the softest hazel eyes, she shook her head to clear her mind.  "Your gun?"  he held out a hand.  She set it aside again, all eyes on it for a moment.

"I heard the girls were shot, and I didn't want to take any chances."  This wasn't in the least true, Missy had no illusions of a gun keeping her safe, it kept her threatening.  The Agents would of course find out that she had bought the gun years before, when the murders had first stared.  To her surprise she said that out loud,  "...years ago, when the murders first started."  She looked desperately between the two agents, trying to decide who she apparently thought was worth telling the truth to. 

"We're from the Behavioral Analysis Unit."  She had known that. She guessed they would repeat themselves repeatedly.  She stepped in behind Reid to close the door.  She locked it, picked up her gun, unlocked the safety, and held it up to the back of Reid's head.  This boy did invite the nastiest thoughts into a lady's mind.  "I need your guns, set them on the floor, carefully."  It was not the first time she had taken guns, even of law enforcement, but the FBI, was taking a risk.  She held the barrel of the gun firm against the back of Reid's head even as he bent over.  "I'll tell you how it happens."  She shoved Reid forward onto a chair, gun pressing at the base of his skull now.  If she was going to tell the truth she would tell it on her own terms.

The agents were alarmingly quiet, none of the usual chaos around a gun.  Agent Prentice looked though Missy with black eyes, Missy knew at this point nothing but the truth was going to be good enough for Prentice.  The boy was just a little present for both of them to enjoy.  "The murders have been going on for years.  Since I started, she paused, 1997."  Prentice looked taken aback, Missy wasn't that old now, how long had she been doing this?  For that matter what was it that Missy actually did?  

Prentice had been surveying the room for the truth about Missy.  Her Mink coat was fake, her Hermes bags and shoes were real, her jeans were wranglers, real cowboy deal, her diamonds real, her accent fake, no track marks, not enough make-up to hide much, certainly not her scar.  Hardly anyone actually saw her, she preferred to work in the dark.  Missy had dimmed the lights but kept them on, a courtesy to her guests.  Middle class family, tense home, ambitious once upon a time, some college, she wanted to hide something so badly that Emily felt intrusive looking for it.

Missy spat out half the truth.  "I met them."  As Reid was about to raise his head and ask who "they" were he felt the gun twitch behind this head.  Still neither Reid nor Prentice looked alarmed.  Prentice listened to Missy's story.  She was new, and "not doing what she did now", she had worked for a small store front agency.  None of the girls were allowed to talk about their pay, their clients, or really anything to each other.  They sat in rows and waited to be picked.  The night her college friend had been murdered two men had come in, brothers-in-law, according to them, not young even at the time, though she was young and maybe she didn't know.  They had seemed unremarkable, the first a little drunk and unshaven, a round face, a little fat around the middle, sandy brown hair, ruddy, his friend a used-car-salesman type, all slicked back in a suit and tie, graying hair, slightly receding, tall, 6ft or a little over, stone cold sober.  Reid felt uncomfortably overdressed for having his head blown off. They wanted to "go out" for a date, and her friend never came back.  She never reported her friend missing, she had called the girl's parents incase she was there.  She wasn't.  Missy left off the rest of the story, she couldn't tell the truth in the way she believed Prentice needed it.

Click, safety back on, click lights back up.  At least she doesn't have a clapper thought Reid to himself.  Missy apologizing for having held the agents at gun point.  Reid and Prentice both rather nonplussed accept her apology and left.  

"We'll need her again," rationalized Prentise out the door.  

"You must be nuts" announced Reid, but followed Prentice down the stairs anyway.

"That's not even the beginning of it."  commented Prentice as the walked down the stairs.

Reid was babbling numbers, as though they were relevant.  Most prostitutes are under the age of 18, in other words the unsub, unsubs, were intentionally taking adults.  Most unsubs would not want to be seen.  These guys had at some point been confident enough to walk into agencies.  They had changed that, well according to the agencies anyhow.  The unreliability of agencies and pimps, was notorious.  If prostitution were legal this would all be solved reasoned Reid.  

Prentice sighed.  Reid was so hopefully naïve.

They would need the files on the previous murders.  She called Hotch, explained what Missy had said about '97 murder, wondered to herself why she hadn't asked about intervening murders.  Reid hadn't for obvious reasons.  She would need to talk to Missy again maybe under different circumstances.  At least they had a starting point.

 

Garcia found them in the database. Nine dead girls, taken two within days of each other, every time, except the first, only one, their bodies found cleaned up, and dressed in plain daily clothes.  Not their clothes.  The missing girl, maybe alive, might be their best hope.  Dead she was another sad lead.  Prentice held her breath for a second, that girl would be a woman now, Missy.

"These men might in fact be related, maybe not brothers in law, but possibility family.  They worked together for twenty years, and only intermittently, which indicates a bond beyond these murders.  Garcia didn't find any out of Denver, so they probably have a reason for meeting up here, quite possibility an unrelated reason, a family matter, a business trip.  If Missy is telling the truth, she's our only witness for now.  If we can find some of the other girls who worked at Kats and Kittens we might get more information."  

"I'll take that"  Prentice.  She would need to talk to Missy for that, and it didn't seem all that likely that they would want to walk into Missy's apartment twice.  Reid would need to come with.  Garcia was tracking down the dead girls relatives, talking all the while of how horrible it would be for them to know that their girls might have been prostitutes.  Hotch would take the law enforcement files.  JJ would try to keep the media at bay, this was now a story.  College kids selling sex; dead sex workers hadn't rated a mention.

Neither Reid nor Prentice had mentioned the gun incident.  

The question had become what exactly did Missy do?  Prentice could probably answer that without looking into it further, but of course that's not how investigations work.

 

Reid hated that dark, but he wasn't going to leave Prentice alone with Missy.  Her office was located well back from the street in a deco building, three flights up.  They walked.  Missy opened her own door, against her better judgment, but she had seen Agent Prentice get out of the government SUV and Agent Prentice affected her better judgment.  Only the light from the hallway fell into the room, other than that it was black.  Reid couldn't see Missy's face.  Reid wanted to hold Prentice's hand.  Prentice seemed quite unperturbed.  

"Thank you" said Missy.  "for coming."  She knew a trip down to the station was a strong possibility.  Missy closed the door behind them.  The dark overwhelmed Reid.  Missy reached out and took Reid's hand.  "Here, let me help you."  Through another door, how did Prentice do this?

Prentice didn't mess around.  "I need the names of the girls who were with you the night your friend was taken.  By the way, what was her name?"  Missy was hard to read in the pitch dark, she sat Reid down on what seemed to be a Louis XIV imitation; Reid hoped it was an imitation.  He didn't want to be murdered on an important piece of furniture.

"Marie Leah Holtz."  Reid felt Missy's hand grip his, strong.  The other girls names, well, work names,  "Miss Kitty, Barbie Rose, Jack-Lynn Oh, Gwendolyn Lyre,  Sherri, Louisia, Santania, Maria,  Titania."

"Real names."  

Another hard grip by Missy.  "Miss Kitty, Melisa Jenkins, Barbie, Hannah Hallowell, Jack-Lynn?  I don't know, Santayana's dead,  HIV, she was raped, don't know, don't know."

Then she let go of Reid's hand leaving him in the dark.  

"Are you still in contact with any of them?"  Dead silence.  Reid could hear her moving easily around, maybe over to Prentice.  A slight shuffle from Prentice.  The women touched hands.

"No," for Reid, and then for Prentice, as the touched her, "Yes.  Melisa is married, to a Doug Jenkins, I see him regularly.  That's all."

Prentice got up to leave.  Reid sat terrified in the dark.  Missy took his hand.  "Missy"  asked Prentice, "What's your real name?"

Missy's breath sucked out of her.  She lied to Prentice, "Missy Valentine."  Prentice left it be.  Missy knew that Prentice would find out.  She couldn't tell just yet.

Missy led Reid out the door.  Prentice followed behind.  Missy wasn't the kind of person you wanted to stand in front of.  Missy closed the door behind them, she took out Reid's service weapon from her leathers.  Second time with that boy.

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
Prentice scowled outwardly at Reid but told herself happily she would need to stop by Missy's again later.  She left the Denver Police Headquarters for the day, and instead of heading home, she headed over to Missy's.  She took herself up the three flights, and again the door was opened for her.  Prentice simply stuck her hand in and Missy placed the gun in it.  Prentice stepped brusquely in.  She pulled the safety, click.  Missy closed the door, click.  Prentice put the gun up against Missy's head, laid a hand on her shoulder and marched her into the depths of the dungeon, the Louis XIV chair. Real, just like the Hermes.  Handcuffed to the chair, gun at her head, Missy could tell the truth.

"Marie."  No one had called her that in years.  "I need to know what happened the night they took you."

 

Garcia, Princess Devine of the Electronically Enabled, was still at her desk.  Well, Missy Valentine didn't exist, obviously.  But she did electronically.  She had a driver's license, tax records, a car--properly emissions tested, owned her building--wow, she had a lot of things other than a birth certificate, a high school or parents.  Her world started in 1997, when she was 21.

Marie Leah Holtz, the name from Prentice, fell off the face of the world in 1997.  She had started at Metro Denver, at 15, and fell of the face of the world.  She had a birth certificate, she had parents, she had a high school diploma�straight A's, she had a social security number, she had no death record, and no whereabouts.

 

"Morgan" gasped Garcia, "I think they are the same person.  Missy and Marie, Marie isn't dead."  

 

"Obviously, I'm not dead."  started Missy.

"Yet." added Prentice.  Missy wondered if Prentice would use the gun.

"Emily, I'm frightened."

"Not of the gun.  Don't lie.  I don't have to do it this way."

This was the only way Missy knew how to do it, in the dark.  "I was sitting with the other girls."  She wanted Emily to hold her hand, she knew how stupid that was.  "Hold my hand, please."  It seemed impractical with the cuffs.  

Prentice closed her eyes, this would be what it took with this girl, woman.  "Not until you tell me."

 

"Emily, I'm begging you."  Slap. A yank on her hair.  Smack a gun across her check.  Missy wondered whose gun it was.  Thud, a blow behind her head.

"Missy, Marie, I need the truth, sometime.  Sooner would work better for me."

Missy feels the weight of Prentice's leg across her legs.  Feels the gun pushed up under her ear.  Is the safty on? if its Prentice's its loaded, if its hers it loaded with a hair trigger, it could be Reids, she took the round out.  Prentice has her gun. 

"We can do this the easy way,"  Pistol across the face, "or the hard way."  Prentice lets her free hand run between Missys thighs."  

"The hard way."  Says Missy.

"So this is what Missy does."  Noted Prentice.

 

The truth about Missy is she wasn't at an Agency.  She was walking down the street and two guys, those guys pulled up, and asked if she "wanted a good time."  She said yes and got on with the biggest mistake of her life.

She had been raped, she had been beaten, held, threatened with a gun, raped with a her gun actually.  She had been fucked every which way until she was raw and ready to plead, but she didn't plead, Missy didn't do that.  White shag carpet, flowery curtains, a woman lived there, a kitchen with food in it, a shower with towels.  The shaggy guy took over, washed her in the shower, told her she was his wife, told her how his wife had left him, told her how they would make love as husband and wife.  Maybe his wife had left him.  He had her watch them in the mirror, until she felt sick.  He gave her clothes, watched her dress.  She asked for money, the whole night?  "$350"

"You liked it as much as we did bitch."  Shove.

Mr. nice guy paid her, and drove her back to somewhere near town, she walked home somehow.

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
"Who is the dead girl Marie?"  Prentice, now gentle, her one had still hold the gun, her other holding Missy's cuffed hands behind her back.

"No" said Missy.  Prentice left.  She set Missy's gun down on the front table on her way out.

"Prentice?"  Reid answered his phone.  

"I have your gun."

"What?"

"Come meet me at Tattered Cover in Lodo, can you find it?"

"In public, why?"

"Out of the office, that's why."

"Oh."

____________________________________________________

Reid, was cursing himself for having let Missy help herself to his gun again.  He felt sick, he couldn't be safe around her, she not only had his gun, she had his number.  Thinking of which his cell rang, he didn't reconise the caller and didn't pick up.

Prentice was getting into this in a way that he couldn't make sense of.  He ran the numbers through his head.  Female officers on the take, female officers solicited, female officers what?  He considered the idea of Prentice and Missy.

Maybe Prentice had just gone to get his gun back.  Dammit.  Had he put her in danger?  What kind of danger?  
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